Andretti’s 1978 F1 Season Remembered

Mario Andretti reflects on his iconic 1978 season—his F1 title, Peterson’s tragic death, and the genius of Colin Chapman.

American motorsport legend Mario Andretti is also the last American to have ever won a Grand Prix, in 1978, the year he was crowned world champion with Lotus.

An American in F1 wasn’t common. But how did Andretti, then racing in IndyCar, end up in F1? And specifically with Lotus?

The Italian-born driver (from Istria) explained the origins of his F1 career: it all started with a meeting between Colin Chapman and himself in the American temple of motorsport…

“If I’m ever feeling low, I can just think back to that meeting—how important it was in my life, because my original dream was to be a Formula 1 driver, not to mention winning a World Championship. In 1965, Jim Clark won at Indianapolis. I finished third, so we obviously had time to talk. As we said goodbye, I told Colin Chapman, ‘Colin, one day, I’d love to race in Formula 1.’ And he said, ‘Mario, when you feel ready, we’ll have the third car for you.’”

“Then in 1967, we won the 12 Hours of Sebring. So in 1968, I called Colin and said, ‘Colin, I’d like to do the last two races of the season in F1.’ And he said, ‘Alright, I’ll have a car for you.’ Then, at Watkins Glen, I didn’t expect to be on pole with Sir Jackie Stewart next to me. I was as surprised as anyone.”

Indeed, Mario Andretti secured pole position in his debut GP at Watkins Glen in the U.S. with a Lotus 49B… despite having raced in the U.S. just 24 hours earlier!

After a few occasional F1 races and a first full season with a satellite team, Parnelli, Mario Andretti committed full-time to Lotus in 1977.

At Lotus, he notably proved to be an excellent developer—a promise he had made to Colin Chapman, the renowned Lotus engineer and team principal, at the end of 1976.

What was it really like working with Colin Chapman and his challenging personality?

“The best thing about him was that he kept my mind engaged. Sometimes, I wanted to slap him, but he made me think. We had this understanding because he knew the car so well; he understood so much and could almost see what I was saying. He and I never, ever, ever had a harsh word. I don’t know what it was, but we just connected. I felt I needed him; I really needed him so much.”

Third in the 1977 championship, Mario Andretti gained significant momentum in 1978. Behind the wheel of the Lotus 79, which fully harnessed ground effect (thanks also to Andretti’s input as a developer), the American would go on to become world champion.

“At the beginning of 1978, I felt very confident in many ways. You always try to be realistic, but I felt we definitely had a shot at winning the championship.”

“My great strength that year… I knew the car very well. I think the car truly spoke to me. I knew the key corners, the ones where you could gain the most time and where you could afford to lose a bit elsewhere. When you’re really in sync with the car, that’s what makes the difference between pole position and second place. It’s something you feel. You can’t even explain it.”

At the time, was there a driver on the F1 grid Andretti particularly looked up to?

“The best thing is to watch drivers when you’re behind them. I’d watch Alan Jones’ apex points. It wasn’t really my style to take a late apex, because of the ovals. I began to learn that. If someone is ahead of you, they’re there for a reason. There’s always something to learn. I probably learned something right up until the very last race of my life.”

A tragic finale in 1978 with Peterson’s death

In 1978, Andretti’s main rival was perhaps his teammate at Lotus, Ronnie Peterson. Peterson couldn’t fully contend for the world championship, bound by a second-driver contract.

Did this strain the relationship between the two Lotus drivers? Andretti insists it did not.

“We had a personal relationship off the track. We both had young families, and our wives got along well. When he came to the United States, we’d go to the lake and have so much fun, competing against each other, playing tennis. We had such a good relationship. He knew we wouldn’t get into too many specifics. We each had our own thing. ‘If you overtake me,’ I’d say, ‘I’ll fight you to the end.’ I had tremendous respect for him.”

At the 1978 Italian Grand Prix, where Andretti claimed the title, Peterson suffered a tragic accident and passed away shortly after the race. Andretti’s title celebration was, of course, canceled.

“It should have been the happiest day of my career, no question. I couldn’t celebrate my title. How could I celebrate? I had lost one of my best friends, and I couldn’t believe I’d lost him because I’d gone to the accident scene, and you could tell he was in shock, but he was alive. I thought he’d have a problem with his leg and limp for a few months, but he was alive.”

“The next day, I was driving to the hospital, paying the toll, and a man recognized me. He said, ‘Have you heard? Turn on the radio. Ronnie Peterson has just died.’ I thought, ‘Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God.’ I simply couldn’t believe it.”

Did Andretti then consider leaving F1?

“Honestly, we never talked about it, even within the family. My wife just understood me. I always knew what she thought, but it never became part of the conversation because it was always there. The danger was there.”

“But if you’re going to dwell on it, then you might as well start doing something else. You shouldn’t be there. It was my nature. I wanted it so badly. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else professionally and being happy and fulfilled. I was selfish, but I was willing to take the risk. Sometimes, I feel guilty. Why was I spared? But do I take it for granted? No, I count my blessings every day, believe me.”